


Set them Free

by ElizaXSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Blood, Death, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, M/M, Murder, Some Romance, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaXSpears/pseuds/ElizaXSpears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, helping a spirit pass on to a peaceful afterlife, was, well, it wasn't easy, but it certainly didn't cause a hassle, but Eric never met a ghost as stubborn as William T. Spears</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spirits

“Oh, thank you so very much for coming!”

The woman shook his hand enthusiastically and he replied with a nod and smile. “Ah, ye called an’ paid sae I’m here.” He replied, pulling his hand from hers.

The woman smiled sheepishly then turned her attention to the mansion, she, along with most her family past and present, had been finally been kicked out from. The house was one of those clichéd old gothic Victorian styled mansions. Old, the green moss scaling the outside walls, the long stone pathway leading up to large double doors, the large windows, the stone architecture, a cemetery as its backyard, especially the big iron black gates that prevented anyone from trespassing, save the owner who possessed the keys.

The man she was speaking too was a Mister Eric Slingby with an almost unhealthy obsession for ancient buildings, especially the ones that had a history of terrible happenings as that was what made him his living. He wouldn’t call himself a paranormal investigator but more like someone to help spirits with their unfinished business to pass to the other side. It didn’t pay well but he’d rather be broke then wealthy doing something he hated. “I hope this isn’t too much for you.” She said. “I know it’s a big place but my husband and I have finally given in and left.”

Eric set down his baggage, inside a few clothes, toiletries and such to keep him satisfied for a week. True, this home was larger than the places he was used to visiting, such as the old theater back in his hometown where an actress threw herself from the upper walkway for not getting the lead role in a play. “I think I can handle it.” He replied with almost childlike excitement in his eyes.

“Wonderful!” she gestured with her hand. “Come with me and I’ll give you the quick tour.” Eric followed her inside, the home just as grand as it was outside with a high ceiling and two grand staircases that lead up to the second floor, a hall separating the two stairways lined with old paintings. “Alright, so, this is the sitting room.” She explained as they entered a doorway off to the side of the large entryway. “This place is normally untouched but if we step through here,” she continued as they passed through another doorway into a grand library with many bookshelves all lined to the brim with both old and new books, a large fireplace also present with two chairs facing it, “we’ve had more than a few books thrown at us or the fire goes out when we just lit it.”

Eric set his suitcase next to one of the dark brown winged armchairs by the fireplace, before folding his arms over his chest to glance around the room. “Well, we’re alone now. Dun see anyone.”

“I’m sure you will eventually. We often feel them watching us.”

Eric cocked his head. “They?”

Again, her sheepish smile returned, her hand fiddling with the sleeve of her black rain coat. “Well, yes. Them, they…there’s more than one spirit here.”

“An’ ‘ow many are there?”

“We can guess four. We’ve seen glimpses of three and heard the fourth.”

“Wha’s the fourth said?”

“We’ll get to that when we enter his room.”

Eric nodded, continuing to follow the woman through the home. They passed through the grand dining room and to the kitchen. “And here we’ve had knives stabbed into the counters or the cupboards thrown open.”

Eric nodded. “Aye, can see the marks.” He observed, running fingers over the obvious stab indents in the wood. “’ave they tried tae use a knife on ye?”

“No. Well, once but we’re sure it wasn’t meant to harm us, just frighten us.”

“Mm.” From the kitchen she lead Eric down the hall between the stairs, through the door that lead to the ballroom which hadn’t been used in many, many years. It was dusty, cobwebbed and unkempt unlike the rest of the house. “Ye ne’er go in ‘ere?”

“Never. We have no need too and we here strange sounds, almost like there is a ball taking place when it’s exactly like this, empty.

“I see.” Eric strode over to the next door. “An’ in ‘ere?”

“Music room. Again, another place we don’t go because the grand piano likes to play itself.”

“Righ’…”

“Now come with me and I’ll show you upstairs.”

Again, Eric took up following the woman around and he was shown to the drawing room, the study, the billiard room, and gallery and finally to the bedrooms the home retained. Two large bedrooms and three smaller rooms, one of the smaller rooms their last stop. Inside, was nothing out of the ordinary; old looking wallpaper and bedding, chipped dresser and nightstands with a silver ornate standing mirror beside an empty, paint splattered easel. “Wha’ was ‘ere?” Eric asked, stepping to the easel. “Did ye see a paintin’?”

“We didn’t, no. The person we bought it from told us they moved it someplace. We’re not sure if it’s the attic or basement but we certainly don’t go into either. We’ve heard a lot of horrible stories about people going into the basement and having wine bottles thrown at them and my husband and I have heard someone running above us in the attic.” She sighed. “But this is also the room we heard the fourth spirit. He doesn’t speak, but we’ve heard him weep.”

“Cryin’, huh?”

“Mm hm.” She swallowed. “My husband was brave enough to stay a night in this room after the third night we heard the crying but he ran out after he was shoved from the bed and the easel was thrown to the ground…believe it or not, this spirit is probably the nicest.”

Eric nodded. “An’ do ye ‘ave an idea who the meanest is?”

“Oh, we do.” She led Eric to the master bedroom. “This is _his_ room.” She said, Eric noticing how she refused to step foot inside. “We’ve been physically hurt here, everyone has. My husband especially has been hit and pushed, we’ve had the door slammed on us and any picture we used to have of our family, either on the walls or on a surface, was smashed.”

Eric stepped into the room, sensing an angry wave of energy wash over him. This certainly wasn’t a safe place. “I’ll stay in ‘ere fer the week.”

“What? That’s not a good idea Mr. Slingby.”

Eric crossed his arms, strolling over to the bed and plopping down on it. “If ‘e wants tae get physically, he can bloody well face me. Man tae…ah, ghost, I guess.”

“Well, that’s brave of you.”

And Eric was shown the rest of home, the way to get into the attic and basement as well as the backyard cemetery before they stood outside the front steps, a man joining them.

“Alright Mary. Our hotel room is set up so whenever you’re ready to leave.”

“Now then, but first, Jack, this is Eric.”

“Hello.” Jack greeted.

“Hey.” He returned the greeting with a shake of his hand. “Hopefully I’ll be done by the end o’ the week an’ ye two can move back in.”

“Well, there’s no rush.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “As long as we can move back into a ghost free house, we’ll be happy.”

“Ah, ‘m sure it’ll only be a week.”

“Then we’ll be off. Good luck and be careful.” Mary said.

“Dun worry about me lass.” Eric gave a short wave as they gathered into the black SUV and drove away leaving Eric alone at this old mansion in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a large dense forest and bog.

With a deep breath, he returned to the grand entryway, closing the door and locking it after he stepped inside. “Alright.” He said, standing in the center of the grand foyer. “’m gonna be stayin’ ‘ere fer a week an’ ‘m gonna try an’ help all o’ ye sae I want ye tae show yerselves, alrigh’?” he stood still a moment before returning to the library to collect his things when he found his suitcase open and his clothes thrown about. “Well, is tha’ how yer gonna greet yer guest?” he murmured, picking up his things.

As he closed and latch his suitcase back up, he jumped when a book zoomed past him, nearly hitting him directly in the forehead. “Ye get tae work fast.” He approached the book, lifting it. “I said ‘m ‘ere tae help ye an’ if this is the ghost tha’ gets physical, least show yerself first.” After closing up the book and setting it aside, he made his way upstairs to the bedroom he was staying in. He spent a good few minutes unpacking then sitting on the bed, waiting and listening.

With his eyes closed, he was able to hear the footsteps above him, the creaking of floorboards down the hall, the gentle whimpers of someone from the room across from him, the tumbling of books downstairs and the crashing of silver wear in the kitchen as the drawer was yanked from the cupboard. “Ye’ve already started, huh?” he opened his eyes and though he’d seen many spirits in his time on the earth, the sudden translucent face before him caused him to shout and jump back, inevitably making him fall off the bed. “Ow.” He winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Ye gotta be the nice one, aye?” he asked but as he sat up to face the spirit, he had gone and Eric only caught a glimpse of a pale face, faded brown hair and faded blue eyes. “Thanks.” He grumbled.

Well, there wasn’t much to do now but acquaint himself a little more with the home. He cleaned up the kitchen from the silverware, checked each room to try and find a spirit then left outside to the cemetery. He had no names but when he was dealing with spirits, he liked to pay his respects to the graves and normally when he did, names would pop out at him, like this one. “Grell Sutcliffe.” He mused, kneeling by the gravestone. “Beloved son.” He set his hand on the tombstone. “Yer one o’ the spirits inside, yeah?” then a chill ran up his spine and he spun around, seeing another figure standing in the room he was staying in, staring out at him through the window, his form oddly more solid then the other ghost he’d seen as he could clearly make out black hair and green eyes and an awful scowl before he faded from sight. “Ah, sae yer the mean one.”

Eventually he returned to the house and to the library, skimming the shelves to see if he could find one involving a Grell Sutcliffe or any history on the house. Yes, Mary told him quite a bit but nothing really about the history. “All old books aren’t stored here…their upstairs.”

Eric paused in reading one of the books he picked out. He glanced up, turning his head to the side and saw the same spirit who’d startled him earlier. His clothing was rather nice but if Eric didn’t know any better, he would have looked like a commoner back in the day then someone who lived in such a high class mansion. “Who are ye?” he asked, closing up the book to give his full attention to the spirit.

Though the ghost was reluctant to really say anything, he did reply. “Alan…Alan Humphries.”

“Ah, Alan. Nice tae meet ye.”

Suddenly Alan’s head snapped up from its bowing positon staring at the floor. “Wait…you… _can_ hear me?”

“Aye, I can.” he offered a gentle smile. “Me names Eric an’ since I was little, I could see, an’ talk tae, ghosts.”

“A-Amazing!” though Eric could see Alan was still hesitant, he carefully walked forward, his body giving off wisps of white smoke, the area getting colder and colder as Alan approached. “Then…you are here to help us?”

“Yep.” He stored away the book back in its spot. “’m gonna try an’ help all o’ ye.”

“…you…you will?”

“Try, yeah.”

Alan gave a tired but thankful smile. “Then, you have to see the others, right? I’m sure…the two of them will be so happy.”

“Two? Mary said there were four o’ ye.”

“There is…but the fourth…he’s very…stubborn and he won’t show himself to you unless…unless he’s really angry.” He glided past Eric, unintentionally showing Eric his cause of death, a bullet to the back of the head with blood staining the back of his hair and neck, the white of his collar. “Come. I’ll show you…Ronald and Grell.” Eric chose to say nothing about the wound, instead following Alan the best he could considering the spirit decided to ghost through walls to get to his destination but eventually he found Alan with two other spirits in the drawing room. One was with long red hair and hazel eyes, pale skin as well but with ugly, hand shaped, bruises along his neck the other with blonde-black two tone hair and darker blue eyes but his skin and lips both had a blue tint to him, like Alan white wisps came off their bodies. “This is Eric.” Alan said. “He’s…going to help us.”

Eric watched red head stand and go to hug him but paused short. “You will?” he asked.

“’m gonna try, yep.”

“Oh, thank you so much darling. It’s been dreadful being stuck here. I’m Grell by the way and this is our little one, Ronald.”

“…I’m not l-little.” Ronald muttered. “I was n-nineteen when…yeah.”

“To us you are dear.” He pat Ronald’s cheek. Grell then turned back to Eric. “How do you plan to help us?”

“Well, first, I need tae know ‘ow ye all died.” Instantly, Eric could feel the atmosphere in the room change. Loneliness, pain, sadness, betrayal, those were the feelings he felt crash over him. “I know, I know ‘s no’ a nice topic, but it’s wha’ I need tae know.”

“…I was shot.” Alan spoke up first. “You…you could probably see that, but someone shot me in the back of my head.”

“Do ye know who?” Eric asked, placing himself on one of the sofas.

“No. I was too busy with my painting to realize anyone had come in…the next thing I remember was hearing a gun then waking up to this empty house then seeing my funeral in the backyard.”

“Paintin’? Ye’re the painter with the easel?”

“Yes. It wasn’t done and I don’t know where they put it.”

“Mm.” he turned to Grell. “Ye?”

“I was strangled obviously.” He huffed, pointing to his neck. “Some loon from my lovers family didn’t see me fit to marry their son so they came here and killed me…they even stole my beloved ring my darling gave to me not even a day before.” He frowned at his bare hand. “I miss it.”

Again, Eric gave a nod. “An’ ye Ronald?”

Ronald shifted a moment before he spoke. “I froze.” He answered. “I-I was on my way to deliver a letter to my family that I had to pick up at the post office. It was going to save my h-home before we lost it from having not enough m-money to pay tax and I ended up caught in a blizzard and died on these s-steps.” He hugged himself, shivering violently. “I’m cold and I was never able t’ deliver my family the letter…they probably lost t-the house.”

“Do ye still ‘ave it?”

“Yes. The people who lived here at the time kept it in a trunk that’s in the attic. They didn’t bother t’ send it for me.”

“An’ wha’ about the other spirit ‘ere? Who’s he? I saw ‘im in the window an’ tha’s it.”

“William is his name.” Grell answered. “He’s the one who hates anyone living here as his family was the original builders of the home. This is Spears soil but he resents the fact after he killed himself, his father sold the home. Even when we were alive, living here, we could feel his presence, couldn’t we Alan?”

Alan nodded. “Yes. He made sure…we knew he didn’t like us…here.”

“An’ why won’t ‘e talk tae me.”

“He doesn’t t-t’ any of us.” Ronald said. “He likes t-t’ be in his room. A-Alone.”

“Mm.”

“And you…living in that room for a week…he won’t like it.” Alan said. “He’ll…he’ll make sure to kick you…out.”

“Well, ‘e’s gonna ‘ave tae.” He stood, glancing at his watch. “An’ from the looks o’ thin’, ‘s nearly ten an’ if ‘m gonna start fixin’ everything’ t’morrow, ‘m gonna ‘ave tae get some sleep.”

“Goodnight.” The three said in unison before fading from Eric’s sight.  
Eric made his way toward his bedroom for the week and dressed down into his nightclothes. He pulled back the blankets and crawled into bed, shutting off the light. This wasn’t the first time he slept in a haunted home but tonight felt different, like he was in some sort of trouble.

He tossed and turned for the better part of the night before he sat up, glancing at his watch on the nightstand. Nearly midnight. “Hm.” He hummed. Perhaps the reason why he couldn’t sleep was he hadn’t met the fourth ghost yet. So he stood from the bed and did something he knew wasn’t right. He began to provoke the spirit. He started simple, throwing a pillow to the floor then the next one. When that didn’t work, he went bigger, throwing off the blankets then finally, when the spirit still hadn’t made himself know, he upturned the entire bed, pausing when he found small chest underneath it, caked in dust.

As he knelt to pick it up, he was suddenly pushed back by the spirit that appeared abruptly in front of him. “Damn it.” He groaned. “Thanks. Second time I hit me head t’day.”

“Do not touch this box.” He heard the spirit sneer. Eric sat up, now fully getting a look at the spirit. What he wasn’t able to see from outside was the blood that covered the spirits entire right side, from his head to his shoes, black wisps smoking off him as he held an aura purely made of hatred. “Never touch this box.”

“Alright, alright.” He stood. “’m Eric an-”

Eric jumped as the spirit flashed right in front of him. “I do not need you to help me.”

“Why?”

“If I am freed, who will protect my home? No one.”

“This isn’t yer home any-”

“It will always be mine! My father built it, my mother spent all she had to buy the best in everything, I jumped to keep this mansion in my family name! I will not let any of you take it!”

“Wha’ makes ye sae attached tae this place?”

“Die and then I’ll speak with you.”

Again, just like Alan had before, as quickly as he’d come, he’d gone leaving Eric stunned. He stared to the box and against what William had told him, picked it up, unfortunately though, it needed a key. “Damn.” He frowned, placing the box on the dresser. After, he fixed the bed and pulled the blankets over him. It was official now; he’d need more than a week to help all of them.


	2. The Attic and the Basement

A fog had settled over the land when Eric woke up. The sky had turned grey, the fog was thick making the cemetery hardly visible but Eric was able to make out a few headstones from where he stood at the window. With this weather, the depressing energy in the home shot up and though now Eric wasn’t feeling up to the task of doing anything today, he shook his head and made his way downstairs. “Can…you see it?”

Eric paused with his hand on the door that led to the backyard, turning to Alan who stood next to him, eyes trained on something outside the window. “See wha’?”

“…the graves.”

“No’ now but ‘m gonna go an’ visit ‘em.”

“May I…follow?”

“If ye want.” he replied then opened the door to step outside. It was cold and his breath came out in white mist which faded back into the air. Autumn had made the trees begin to go bare and the red and orange leaves crunched under his shoes as he made his way to the cemetery, Alan close by him. “Can ye leave the home further then the cemetery?” Eric asked.

“…no. We…we are forced to stay…where we died.” Alan replied with a solemn voice. “I…wanted to see the rest of Europe before…I got too old.”

“’m sorry ye died ‘fore ye got tae.” he said. “’ow old are ye?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Really? Ye look younger then tha’.”

“You’re not…the only one to tell me that.”

Eric watched Alan disappear in the fog as he sped past him but it didn’t take long to find him as he came across the young spirit kneeling on the ground, hugging a tombstone. “This yers?”

“Mm hm.” He pointed to the name engraved into the cold stone. “Alan Humphries…”

Eric knelt down, noting the deep frown on the ghosts pale lips. “I bet ye dun like seein’ this ‘ere.”

“No, I don’t…”

In all his years dealing with spirits, Eric had never seen a ghost cry until now. A translucent tear slipped over Alan’s cheek and dropped from his chin to evaporate into nothing. “Hey, ah, dun go cryin’ now.”

“But…I shouldn’t be here. I…I shouldn’t have been the one he killed.”

“Ye said ye dinnae know who killed ye.”

“I didn’t alive but I was able to hear my mother tell my grandfather my father had debts he couldn’t pay so who killed me was someone taking my life as payment.” His white smoky wisps began to resemble William’s as they slowly turned to a gray then to a black. “I shouldn’t be dead! I shouldn’t be here! I should still be alive and my father should have been the one killed!” he cried. “Why was my life taken?!”

“Calm down.” Eric said. The last thing he needed was another vengeful spirit. “I know ‘s no’ fair but I swear ‘m gonna help ye rest.”

Alan’s eyes nearly pierced through him but as moments passed, things began to settle down. “I’m sorry.” Alan apologized when he calmed back down. “I get angry when I think of how unfair it is.”

“I dun blame ye. I’d be pissed too if tha’ ‘appened tae me.” He frowned this time. “’m sorry ‘m not able tae comfort ye properly.”

“It’s fine.” He faded away.

Eric shook his head, standing from kneeling to look for the rest of the other two graves. Ronald’s wasn’t hard to find but William’s was a strange one. Eric had assumed William would be placed in a mausoleum with his parents but when he came across the crypt that held both Mister and Misses Spears, a William Spears wasn’t near them at all but that wasn’t his main concern right now. Right now, he had to focus on finding three objects. A ring, a letter and a half finished painting. “Sae, why’s the attic bad?” Eric asked Ronald who led him to the attic door.

“I-It’s just o-old and we make lots of n-noise so no one wants t-t’ enter it.” He replied. “But in the a-attic is just j-junk. A-At least, junk f-for me.”

“Ah, ye ne’er know.” Eric tutted, pulling on the string to open the attic door, causing the ladder to slid out. “We might find yer letter up ‘ere.”

“Y-Y’ think?”

“Aye, I do.” And he climbed up the old ladder carefully, afraid it’d snap under his weight and he’d join the spirits he was trying to save.

Thankfully, Eric made it up to the attic safely and Ronald was correct. There was a lot of old junk and more dust. “Huh.” He tested the floor boards before he made his way over a pile of old boxes and a trunk. “Didn’t ye say yer letter was in an old trunk in the attic?”

“…oh. G-Guess I did.”

Eric flipped the latches of the old trunk the popped the lid, wincing when three spiders scrambled over the lid and into the cracks of the floor. “Charming.” He sighed. “Righ’, let’s see wha’s in ‘ere.” He searched through the trunk, finding some old trinkets and pictures but not a hint of letter. “Was it this trunk?”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Eric’s brow furrowed, pushing away more items until he finally closed the lid with a huff. “Well, ‘s not in ‘ere.”

“T-Then over h-here?”

Eric followed Ronald to the next part of the attic. With more junk to shuffle through, Eric got to work with Ronald keeping an eye open for anything that looked familiar to him but as before, nothing popped up until Eric found another trunk, tucked away in the back corner of the attic. “Maybe ‘ere. ‘s the last place tae look.” He pulled the trunk toward him and pushed up the lid, amazed to find it stuffed to the brim with the books Alan had told him about. “Well, I found somethin’ useful tae me.”

“A-Anything for me?”

“Still lookin’ blondey. Hang on.” He carefully stacked the books aside and at the bottom of the trunk was a yellowed envelope. “This it?” he asked, taking the letter between his fingers to show it to the ghost.

“Yes!” Ronald reached out to snatch it but his hands merely ghosted through it. “Oh…b-but yes, that’s i-it!”

Eric flipped open the envelope and pulled out the letter, carefully unfolding it. The writing was very neat and precise, detailing how the Knox home was to remain in Knox hands and not in Phantomhive control. “Wha’s this letter about?” he asked.

“M-My family were being kicked out of our h-home because a Phantomhive wanted t-t’ build a f-factory on our land a-and this letter was f-from the king s-sayin’ we could s-stay.”

Eric frowned. “No wonder ye wanted tae give this tae yer family.”

“Yes…” he tried and failed again to grab the letter. “…how will this h-help me?”

“I can try an’ find livin’ relatives an’ give them this letter. Maybe tha’ll help ye because the letter finally got tae yer family?”

“Could y-y’?”

“I can try, aye.”

“Thank y-y’.”

Eric nodded and secured the letter safely on top the stack of books before picking them up to bring them downstairs. He entered the library, set a fire and settled down to begin reading up on the history of this house.

All was fine, he still wasn’t learning anything knew but he felt like he was getting close, until the fire blew out and he sighed. “’s ye Spears?”

“No actually. It’s me dear.”

Eric turned his head to Grell, nodding to him. “An’ can I help ye with anythin’?”

“You can. You found Ronnie’s letter, now what about my ring and Alan’s painting? The poor thing is back in his room crying.”

“Ah, righ’.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course he did. Why else would be waste his time sitting there reading when he still has you two to help.”

Both turned to William who placed himself in the chair across from Eric, his arms crossed, eyes continuing to glare at Eric. “That’s the first time you’ve spoken to anyone.”

“Because his presence here unsettles me.”

“…‘m the one alive, ye know. Yer dead. Ye should be unsettlin’ me.”

“Yet I don’t seem to.” He stood. “Just hurry and be done with your ‘helping’. I don’t wish to share my mansion any longer.”

Grell waved his hand as William faded while he walked from the room. “Honestly, he’s such an entitled prick sometimes.”

“Aye, I see tha’.” He sighed. “Well, tae the basement then.” Grell followed along as Eric made his way to the basement, asking what he did about the attic. “Sae, is there anythin’ I should be worryin’ about down ‘ere? ‘r is it jus’ ye four makin’ a ruckus?”

“Just us dear. Nothing to worry about.”

“Good.” So he opened the door and made his way down to the basement finding the wine cellar with misplaced bottles of wine as well as wine splatter on the ground next to a broken bottle. “Nice place.”

“Isn’t it? Ah, how I’d love a sip of this again.” Grell fawned at the wine. “I always loved indulging in a glass of red wine with my love.”

“Tha’s nice. Sae, wha’d yer ring look like?”

“It was silver with a lovely ruby gem. He knew it was my favorite color so all the gifts he bought me were red. Even a lovely ball gown that I hadn’t got the chance to wear was a lovely shade of red.”

“’E ne’er took ye tae balls?”

“Of course he did! But this dress he bought me before my death because we were invited to a special ball a few weeks away.” Eric stepped to the side of the room, only turning around when he heard a squeal of delight. “They still have it! Oh, Eric sweetie, look at this!”

Curious, Eric walked towards Grell finding the spirit had found indeed an exquisite red ball gown that needed just a bit of cleaning to look brand new again. “Wow, this is lovely.” He agreed. “’m sorry ye ne’er got to wear it.”

“Ah, so am I.” gentle fingers ghosted through the sleeve of the dress as Grell’s eyes held a forlorn look. “Perhaps when I finally rest, I’ll be able to wear this dress and dance with my beloved again.”

“I ‘ope sae.”

“…say, do you know what happens after you help us?”

“Nope.” Eric said, returning to his spot. “Jus’ know I put ye tae rest. I dunno wha’ waits ye but it’s better than bein’ stuck ‘ere.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Aye.”

“Mm, alright. I’ll trust you.”

Eric nodded, searching among the shelves. “Where do ye think they woulda put yer rin’ an’ Alan’s paintin’?”

“I have no idea.”

“Yer a big help.” It took quite some time before Eric finally gave up after searching the basement twice and the attic once more. “’m sorry Grell, I dunno where yer ring could be.”

“They have it here. I know they do.”

“Try the floorboards.” Again William popped up, this time he was stood against the far wall of the wine cellar. “There’s a loose one here and I’m sure they hid things under it like my father used too.”

“Oh, sae now ye come tae ‘elp?” Eric grumbled, huffing toward William.

“I never said I wanted to help.” He retorted, moving out of Eric’s way.

“Still. This piece o’ information coulda been useful a couple hours ago.” He knelt down, testing the board before easily prying up the wood. As William mentioned, there were things hidden. Nothing too expensive looking, just old crumbled up and illegible letters and pictures. “Why did ‘e throw this stuff down ‘ere?” he asked William.

“Those were photo’s my father took of his lover and letters she wrote to him.”

“Lover?”

“Yes. Mother never found out until after I jumped.”

Eric sighed. “Great.” He pushed away the dirt and the pictures and papers until finally coming upon a well-hidden small box. “Alright, found somethin’.” He announced, needing to use both hands to pry the box from the ground. “This look familiar?” he asked Grell.

“Mm, no, but can you open it?”

“Ah, wish I could. ‘s locked.”

William rolled his eyes. “Honestly, this is pathetic. Why bother with this? Surely you have better things to do then help them.”

“’m helpin’ ye because ‘m the only one tha’ can ‘ear an’ see ye.” He kicked the board back into place. “An’ I know wha’ ye need.”

“And you may not want to be free from this place, but I do.” Grell waggled his finger at William. “It’s not all about you Mister bloody face.”

William faded after that and Grell followed Eric upstairs where he placed the box on the table in the dining room. “Jus’ gotta find a key.”

“How tedious that will be.”

“Aye.” He scratched the side of his head. “An’ gotta look fer Alan’s paintin’.”

“Why don’t you talk to the dear? I’m sure maybe a few words of support will ease him.”

After a moment, Eric nodded. “Righ’, I’ll do tha’.” He left Grell behind and left to Alan’s room, pushing the door open to indeed find the spirit on the bed with those strange ghost tears rolling down his cheeks. “Evenin’.”

“…I want my painting…back.”

“Aye, I know ye do.” Eric entered to sit next to him. “An’ ‘m workin’ on findin’ it.”

“But…I don’t just want it back…I want it complete…” he looked down at his hands. “I want to…I want to paint…again.”

“I know ye do an’ when I find yer paintin’, maybe I can help ye finish it.”

“…really?”

“Yeah. I mean, ‘m no painter but ‘m willin’ tae try if it’ll make ye ‘appy.”

“…thank you.”

“Yer welcome.” He reached over and did his best to pat Alan’s thigh before he stood. “Now, ‘m gonna ‘ead tae bed sae I can get another fresh start t’morrow.”

“Alright…goodnight, Eric.”

He left the room and returned to his room for the night and there was William, staring out the window. “Wha’ are ye thinkin’ about?”

“I’m just remembering what it felt like to jump.”

Eric cocked his head. “Tha’s the window ye jumped from?”

“Mm hm.”

“…did it…hurt?”

“I don’t recall. Perhaps for a second before I woke up to my own corpse.”

“An’ ye did tha’, willingly?”

“I did. Father wanted to sell the mansion but we nearly went broke for this place, I was damned if they sold it off.”

“Well, jumpin’ dinnae do much, did it?”

“It did actually. Yes, it may not be under my family name anymore, but I will remind any family that moves in that this is not their home, that it is mine and forever will be.” He opened the window and stood on the ledge.

“Hey, wha’ are ye doin’?”

William turned around; Eric finding it odd the wind from outside was blowing William’s clothing and hair. “Falling.” He replied before he fell backwards.

An odd sense of urgency washed over Eric as he bolted to the window to try and catch William but instead found the body on the ground. Oddly enough, the urgency grew greater as he rushed outside, not knowing what to expect when he found the body gone. “…did you really feel concern for me?”

Eric spun around, facing the spirit behind him. “…I…I, yeah, I guess.”  
“Why?”

“I…dunno.” He frowned. “I dunno.”

William shook his head. “You shouldn’t have. I’m dead already. I cannot feel anything.”

Eric crossed his arms, eyeing the cemetery that was now visible from where they stood as the fog had lifted sometime during the day. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”

“I suppose.”

“Where are ye buried? I dinnae see a gravestone by yer parents.” In a reply, William shot him a glare that would have killed him before he disappeared into the dark night. “Good answer!” he called out before he returned inside but as he returned to the bedroom, he began to question why he felt such fright for the dead man who relived his death again.


	3. The Man

The books he found in the attic were opened and splayed out on the dining table. Eric sat with narrowed eyes while he scanned each word carefully, jotting down anything interesting on lined papers he collected from the study.

He hadn’t been interrupted by any of the spirits for quite some time, which both pleased and off set him. These ghosts, Alan especially, enjoyed hanging around him, speaking with someone from the living but today, they were gone, even William hadn’t tried anything. _‘Strange,’_ he thought, flipping a page, _‘I wonder if there’s a reason for them bein’ gone.’_

As curious as he was, he was too far gone in his research to put effort into searching for the spirits and it was a good thing he remained where he sat. Passing old photos taped to the old pages of these books, Eric’s brow furrowed when something began clicking in his mind. He had found the family photos of William, Grell and Alan and in all three, one man stood out to him. He was dressed in black robes and a strange looking hate, reminiscent of the old undertaker uniform from the 18th century. His hair was long and silver, bangs covering his eyes and scars lined across his nose, neck and pinky. His grin was odd and his nails were long and pitch black. “Alan!” he called out, hoping to get the attention of the young spirit.

Thankfully, after a second shout of his name, Alan materialized into the seat next to him. “…yes?”

“First, where’ve ye all been?”

“The attic.”

“Why?”

“…we like it up there. It’s…quiet.”

Eric sighed. “Alrigh’ an’ second, who’s this?” he asked, pointing to the strange man he found in three separate photos when he should have been dead after being in William’s family photo.

“He was…a family friend.”

“Hm.” He hummed, placing the photo down.

“Why?”

“Jus’…curious.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Can ye get me Will and Grell?”

“William?”

“…ah, righ’. If ye can.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Alan leave then before him a few moments later, Grell and surprisingly, William appeared. “What?” William asked for them both, sounding annoyed as usual.

“Who’s this?” he asked, sliding the photos over. “This man.”

Peering over, Grell gave a shrug. “I haven’t a clue. Father knew him but I could care less about family social business.”

“An’ ye, Will?”

“He was my mother’s doctor.”

“Was yer ma ill?”

“For a time. He cured her and they became quite close…hang on.”

“Ye see wha’ I do, aye?”

“Yes. Why is he in Grell’s photo? He shouldn’t have lived such a long time.”

“An’ ‘e’s in Alan’s.” he slid Alan’s over.

Both observed the photos closer. “How odd.” Grell mused.

“’s more than odd.” He glanced over at William. “Ye know where the man lived?”

“A little out of town…if I could leave, I would show you.”

Eric closed up the books, standing from his chair. “I’ll ask around then.” He picked up Ronald’s letter from the table. “I gotta deliver this tae the Knox’s anyway. Sae, ye got a name I could look up?”

“He was simply called Undertaker. I cannot recall if he had a real name or not.”

“Thanks. Be back then.” He announced before he made his way from the mansion, walking into town. When he drove through it upon arriving, he found it to be quite dreary but now that he was walking through it, it looked a bit livelier.

His first stop was the post office. Along with old letter, Eric had enclosed one of his own explaining why they were receiving such a thing and after speaking with Ronald about his family for a moment he learned that his family had lived a few towns over so with a bit of asking, Eric found the right person to send the letter to. A Miss Lily Knox.

With that done, Eric turned his attention to finding more info on this ‘Undertaker’. His first stop was to the library since the mansion didn’t exactly have all the updates of all the modern technology. He sat himself down at the computers and set to work, doing all he could to search through the town’s history. Soon, he began to get a weird feeling creep up his back as he found more photos with the same man over and over again without any change to him throughout all the family’s he’d posed with. He almost looked immortal which sounded nearly impossible.

He spent most of the day in the library and when he stepped outside again with papers he printed, the sun had gone down. With a sigh, he trudge back up to the mansion, letting the door slam closed behind him. “You’re back.”

He glanced up at William. “Aye.”

“Find anything then?”

Eric couldn’t help but smirk. “Yer actually talkin’ tae me.”

“I’m merely curious about this man.” He replied with a glare. “Now answer me. Have you?”

“Sorta.” He said, walking toward the den. “Come an’ sit.”

Though William hesitated a moment, he did eventually take a seat next to Eric. “Now explain.”

“Righ’. Sae, I was goin’ through the towns history an’ ‘e was more than a doctor.” He shuffled the pages. “Was a mortician hence why the called ‘im Undertaker.”

“Did he give himself the name or did the town.”

“I dunno tha’ but ‘e dealt with the dead with little, ah, problems. The dead dinnae seem tae ‘im a bit.”

“Is that the same with most morticians?”

“’E liked tae talk tae ‘is cadavers.”

“Mm.” William leaned over his arm to read the words. “Was there anything else you found out about him?”

“No. T’morrow, ‘m gonna go an’ try tae find this place.” He said, showing William the old morticians building. “Ye said outta town sae ‘m gonna drive down there.”

William frowned, standing with a shake of his head. “How I wish I could join you.”

Eric sat back. “Ye dun like being a ghost, do ye?”

“Who wishes to be something like this? Bound to their place of their death, forced to relive their death over and over again.”

“Then lemme hel-”

“I may not like it, but I will not leave my family home in the hands of anyone else.”

“But-”

“You don’t listen, do you Slingby? I will not _leave_. I’ve been here for years and do not plan on leaving now.”

Eric could say nothing else as William faded. Honestly, this spirit was going to be a real pain to help free after he helped the rest of them. “Y-Y’ did i-it?!”

Eric jumped at Ronald suddenly appearing before him. His face was beaming, his smile large. “Aye, I sent yer letter.”

“Then…then why a-am I s-still here?”

“Ye gotta wait fer yer family tae get it.” He replied standing. “’m sure once they get it, yer gonna be free.”

“I h-hope s-so!”

“Sae do I.” he offered a soft smile to Ronald before he returned to his bedroom, ready to crash for the evening. He set the papers on the desk then collapsed into bed, running a hand over his forehead. As much as he wanted to help all these spirits, he was beginning to find this Undertaker man far more interesting.

“Did you…find my painting yet?”

Eric lifted his head, offering a sad smile to Alan. “Sorry lad. No’ yet.”

Alan frowned, turning his back to Eric. “Do you think you’ll be able to finish it?”

“’m sure.” He looked down at his bed then scooted over though knew it was pointless considering Alan didn’t have a physical body. “Come ‘ere.”

Alan glanced over his shoulder then turned fully back to Eric when he saw the blonde gesturing to the space beside him. “What?”

“Come. Lay ‘ere, with me.”

“Lay, with you?”

“Aye.”

Alan slowly took a step forward, then another and another before he stood by the bed. “Lay?”

“Aye.” He chuckled.

Alan was cautions as he took Eric’s offer, lying on the bed, flat on his back. “Ye can relax y’know. Yer dead. Cannae do anythin’.”

“I’ve just…never laid with anyone before.” He rolled to face Eric. “Even dead it’s…weird.”

“Ah, I know tha’ feelin’. Layin’ with someone fer the first time.”

Alan met Eric’s eyes before he moved closer; trying to curl into him though it didn’t do much as he slipped right through him, giving Eric a chill. “Sorry.” He muttered.

“’s fine.” He chuckled.

Alan smiled at him. “How does it feel?”

“How does wha’ feel?”

“The bed.”

“’s warm an’ soft.”

Alan placed his hand on the pillow. “I…I wish I could feel it again, a soft pillow under my head.”

“I wish ye could still feel it too…’m sorry yer life was taken from ye.”

“…I…so am I.” he used the hand on the pillow to reach out and place it on Eric’s cheek. “You…look tired.”

“Am.”

“Then go to sleep. Tomorrow…tomorrow you can look for my painting?”

Eric chuckled. “Aye, I can, promise.”

Alan stilled a moment before he leaned over and kissed the top of Eric’s head before he faded away. Eric only smiled a little more before his heavy eyelids closed and he passed out, unaware of the guest he was going to receive the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Normally, helping a spirit pass on to a peaceful afterlife, was, well, it wasn't easy, but it certainly didn't cause a hassle, but Eric never met a ghost as stubborn as William T. Spears


End file.
